


everything in its season

by ifinkufreaky



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Myth!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 16:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11016876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinkufreaky/pseuds/ifinkufreaky
Summary: Ivar as Hades awaiting Persephone's return. Demeter's role replaced by fertility god Ubbe. Just a dreamy little play on one of my favorite myths and some of my favorite characters.





	everything in its season

For you, the first sign of autumn is a rumbling under the ground. You smile softly to yourself. Ivar is growing impatient.

Ubbe hears it too, pulls you closer, tries to burn you up in the heat of his embrace. “Fair is fair, my love,” you whisper into his sunny cheek.

The earth moves again and you picture him down there, resplendent in his chariot, sawing at the reins as he waits for the way to you to open.

“I have always shared with my brothers,” Ubbe murmurs, warm as an afternoon breeze. “But Ivar won your winter months through trickery. Fair is _not_ fair.” He pushes your skirt up, hand hot against your sex.

You cannot resist tormenting your first husband. Maybe if you fan the flames, the jealousy he denies will burn through all its fuel. “I was the one who ate the fruit.”

Ubbe pulls your thighs roughly, so your ass hits his hips and you’re flat on your back. “The fruit that was set before you in _his_ hall, in a chair he bound you to, after he _abducted_ you from the green earth of my lands.”

“Yes,” you say, matching his tone. You will always remember that day; the first time you met your husband’s dark and banished brother, his chariot erupting from a crevasse that rumbled open from the ground before you. The Lord of the Underworld. “Yes,” you hiss as Ubbe reveals his cock, already at its zenith. He is wasting no time today. He always claims you as often as you will let him before the season has to change.

Your bodies roll together like a summer storm, ferocious and lazy, exhilarating and comforting all at once. It is not Ivar’s time yet. You want to cherish the soft green of the earth too, the wide blue of the sky above you. Soon enough, you will be in the other place, where the only blue is in your lover’s eyes.

You and Ubbe do your best to blow on the dying embers of the summer, but as you lie spent in his arms you watch the grass begin to wilt already, in a circle around his despondent hand.

***

The leaves are curling off the trees, the farmers pulling in rich harvests, when the earth opens up in front of you again. _It is time, my love_. The loamy richness of the earth, the metallic moisture of the caverns below, assault your nose and overwhelm you with bittersweet memories. You were so afraid, the first time. Now you only long for what Ivar will do when he has you again.

You wait with flushed cheeks and bated breath for the chariot to barrel up from the depths, like it did that first day. But this time there are no resounding hoofbeats, no screeching wheels. The birds resume their lazy song, a cool breeze rustles the heavy heads of wheat. The edge of the abyss yawns in silence.

It’s almost as if he’s giving you a choice this time. You don’t even hesitate. Your feet find the smooth stone steps and the earth swallows up every trace of you. Summer is over.

It feels strange to enter Ivar’s kingdom the way the common dead do, on your own two feet. The journey through cavernous tunnels in the strange, shadowless not-light of this domain seems endless. And yet there are shadows, you notice as the vines on the walls recognize you, move closer to you. Their absent queen; summer is still shimmering in your skin and reflected sunlight is bursting from your own pores.

The earth rumbles around you like the murmuring of a lover in the middle of the night. The steps ahead of you are coming into being just for the comfort of your bare feet; harder than the soil they’ve been used to but satisfying in their own way, the stone smooth and cool. You know if you turn around you would see the passage closing, the earth re-forming behind you. But you don’t turn around. It’s dangerous to turn around, to show any hesitation at all in Ivar’s realm.

Moisture glistens on the walls of stone around you, the sweat on a lover’s brow. Life above with Ubbe is sweet and easy, but in Ivar’s season you relish the excitement of anxiety. Why has he not come to greet you? You shiver as you wonder what fresh torture your lover might put you through this time.

The steps open into Ivar’s gloomy hall. The air is thick, you can almost see the walls breathing. Heavy, emotion-laden breaths. They echo the countenance of their master, seated at the dark end of his long and empty table.

You bring the light with you; as you draw closer it reflects off his pale, glowering face. It looks as if it were carved from marble, a beautiful youth crafted with loving hands and then forgotten in the deep. Only his eyes move, following your approach.

“Ivar,” you say. “Husband.” His fingers clench around the arms of his chair. “You did not come to me in your usual way.” On the first day of autumn he is always a beast, all grasping hands, devouring mouth, insistent, burrowing fingers. You see the monster even now, but he is caged behind those furrowed brows. “What is it,” you ask, lay your gentle hand over his white knuckles.

A single sigh rings through the cavern. It feels as though the earth is about to fall away under your feet again, watching Ivar’s eyes rise to yours and reveal the secret fears of his heart.

“I needed to know if it were your true desire, to come back to my lonely kingdom. I could not allow myself to abduct you again.”

There is no room for hesitation in the underworld. You tilt your head and the shadows shift. “What did I say to you, that day that I first met you, the dark god appearing in his chariot out of the cracking earth?”

A smile stirs behind his eyelids. “You asked me for a ride.” Then his face fell stony again. “But you did not know how far I would take you.”

It is your turn to smile, leaning in closer. “I liked the feel of your arm as you dragged me away. It was you that thought you had to cage me, imagined you needed to bind me and force me.” His eyes are captivated in yours now, your mouth hovering so close to his. You can see your light reflected in the blackness of his pupils. “I was always enjoying the ride.”

“You do not resent me, and the months that you have to stay here.” His strength is rising up from the depths now, you can hear the confidence entering his voice. This is far better than the chariot barreling down on you.

Your next words are low, but as steely as his. “It was my choice to stain my lips with your dark fruit.” Your body hums with the heavy awareness of the freedom you are about to willingly surrender. There is a fresh pomegranate on the table before him, sliced open and ready on a heavy pewter platter. “I will redden my fingers again right now.”

Ivar’s lips curl in a self-satisfied smile as he watches you dig your nails into the strange fruit, bursting as many seeds as you manage to pluck. You lock eyes with Ivar and let the dark juice slide along your lips before your greedy tongue guides the sweet things inside. _I will continue to choose you, year after year._

At last, he touches you. Ivar’s fingers curl around your jaw as his thumb wipes red juice from below your lip. “You are mine again, love,” he rumbles, at once promise and threat and sweet joy. His face breaks again. “But how can I stop fearing you will come to regret it?”

You climb into his lap, meld your shining body into the comfort of his darkness. “Test me then, love,” you hiss. “Take it out on my flesh. Try and break me, until you are satisfied that you cannot.” You wind your vibrant limbs around his dead ones until you feel him begin to stir. “Make me scream and cry until you believe me.” His hands close around you and the room falls away; he flips your bodies and pulls you deeper into the black of his domain. Reality is always solid, but always changing, here. He controls the very walls, the very ground, anything you could cling to. So you cling to him. His body presses down on you, then it’s pressing into you. You hear Ivar panting as your stained lips find his ear. “I like being trapped in the dark with you.”


End file.
